


here to take my medicine (rest it on your fingertips)

by neonangell



Series: i mess around with him (and i'm okay with it) [1]
Category: Medicine - Harry Styles (Song), Oasis (Band), Real Person Fiction
Genre: HE IS, Harry is a Little Shit, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, anyway harry blows noel in a recording studio because i said so, feels SO weird using those tags. anyway, have fun?, i genuinely dont know what this is, i love that that's a tag. its true
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26428126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonangell/pseuds/neonangell
Summary: Harry would say he wasn’t sure how it happened, but that would be a massive lie. He knew exactly how he’d gotten into this situation, crowded up against the wall next to the recording booth, someone’s breath hot against his jaw and their hand reaching for his wrists, too willing to relinquish control, too ready to let them pin his hands above his head with nothing more than a coy smirk, height difference be damned.or, Harry has a thing for Noel. He blows him in a recording studio.
Relationships: Noel Gallagher/Harry Styles
Series: i mess around with him (and i'm okay with it) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944286
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	here to take my medicine (rest it on your fingertips)

**Author's Note:**

> so...this exists now. pioneer of Noel/Harry, crackship supreme. fully honest, wrote this mostly because the lovely [@joshsassceshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/joshsassceschi/) made a comment about it and has a thing for Noel. I made a few jokes, realized I could actually write it, and here we are. any and all feedback is much appreciated. thanks

Harry would say he wasn’t sure how it happened, but that would be a massive lie. He knew exactly how he’d gotten into this situation, crowded up against the wall next to the recording booth, someone’s breath hot against his jaw and their hand reaching for his wrists, too willing to relinquish control, too ready to let them pin his hands above his head with nothing more than a coy smirk, height difference be damned.

It had started, ironically, on twitter, after an interview or two where he’d mentioned how Oasis had meant a lot to him growing up, had always been there for him. Every momentous occasion in his youth had been marked by one of their songs, every year older just meant more memories he had intertwined with his love of the band. So it was only natural that he eventually said he wanted to cover one of their songs - Champagne Supernova was what he’d said, specifically, he was pretty sure, it felt like the obvious choice for him - which had been met with the exact uproar he’d anticipated.

What he hadn’t anticipated, however, was the DM he’d gotten, maybe a day later, from Noel fucking Gallagher himself. He’d seen the interview, he’d told Harry, and he’d be interested in him doing a cover. He just wanted Harry to actually do it justice, he’d added, as some cheek-in-tongue sort of comment Noel was known for. Harry wasn’t a fucking idiot, though, he’d obviously agreed to it. Things had snowballed from there, though, from Noel wanting to look at the finished product, to him wanting to be in the recording studio. Every DM - from both parties - laced with far more sexual tension than the cover required. Almost everything, in Harry’s opinion, could benefit from a nice bit of sexual tension, as long as everyone consented.

Which was how he’d ended up where he was. He hadn’t gotten through much of the song so far, hadn’t been able to do a full run through. Whether it was the glances he sent Noel’s way, or the silk shirt he’d chosen for the occasion, unbuttoned low enough that his butterfly peaked through the open gap, he wasn’t sure, but Noel had called for a break fairly quickly, stating Harry didn’t ‘get what they were going for’, and had sent the others out. And then promptly backed Harry up against the wall, cold seeping in through the thin material of his shirt, contrasted in the most heavenly sinful way by the heat radiating off Noel’s body.

And that’s before he started talking. “You’re a fuckin’ tease,” he said, low barotone close to Harry’s ear, breath in hot puffs near his jaw. “You don’t give a shit about the music, do you?” Noel’s hands were dangerously low, fingertips brushing against his hips and up to his waist. His grip was firm when he finally touched him properly, just pushing him back further against the wall. “You just wanted to be put in your fuckin’ place right here, in front of all these people.”

Harry tipped his head back against the wall, artfully ruffled curls not prepared to survive what they’d be going through. Noel’s words have him arching his back, just enough to press them further together, Noel’s grip firm and unrelenting on his hips. “I care about the music, too.” He gave him a lopsided smile, already drunk on the act before it had even started, the heady knowledge of the people just down the hall, half of them people he had to see regularly, would know what he had done, and drunk on the pure, uncensored presence of his childhood idol, ready to fuck him against the wall of the recording studio. “This is just a bonus.”

Noel probably would have been at least mildly amused. As it was, his grip tightened a little bit. “You’re awfully mouthy, Styles.” Harry pretended that didn’t make him full-body-shiver, from his head down to his toes, clad in sneakers, having to temporarily set aside his high heeled boots so Noel wouldn’t be /too/ too short compared to him. He was already at a good height, Noel’s mouth awfully close to Harry’s jawline. Harry had thought this through. 

“Maybe you should give me something else to do with it,” Harry replied, words falling easier from his lips than almost anything else he’d ever said. Noel’s hold on him loosened, and Harry was quick to flip their positions. Noel, with his back against the recording studio wall, eyes darting to where they’d left the door unlocked. Harry’s hands were on his trousers quicker than anything, nimble fingers undoing the button and sliding the zipper down.

He fell to his knees, then, deciding to put his money where his mouth was - or his mouth where they both wanted it, more accurately - pulling Noel from the confines of his tight pants and stroking him with one hand. Noel didn’t have time for another cutting one-liner before Harry was taking him in as far as he could go. Which, to his credit, was almost all the way. He wrapped a hand around what he couldn’t fit, gaze shifting up to meet Noel’s. And fuck, he could’ve cum from that alone.

It was no secret that Harry had an oral fixation, and this was a moment he’d had wet dreams about since he’d started having them. Not that he ever thought it would happen. Noel’s pupils were blown wide enough that they were almost black, the blue of his iris nothing more than a thin ring, almost lost in the dim lighting of their corner. Noel moved his hand, the other still against the wall, to tangle his fingers in Harry’s hair, tight and authoritarian. The message was clear: Noel was in charge here, not Harry. Harry gave him a short nod, as well as he was able to, and that was it.

Noel used the grip on his hair to tug him back, Harry going far, far too easily, letting the other man guide him, use him the way he wanted. That was what he loved about this, really. He knew he was talented with his mouth - relished the sounds and the taste and everything involved in giving head, especially blowjobs - but he really loved when someone just wanted to take control. Being able to give that up was a rush Harry never grew tired of.

And he thought that, you know, if Noel had let him do what he wanted, he would have taken his time, drawn it out. Traced the veins he could still feel, even now, with his tongue, getting him messy and spit-slick before getting in to the main event. Harry firmly believed blowjobs were more fun if they were messy, saliva and cum left to dry, tacky and uncomfortable, as a tangible reminder of a night gone well. He wasn’t given that freedom, though, firm grip in his hair, gently tugging him back and forth, left with no option but to keep his watering eyes locked on Noel’s, meeting his steely gaze, as unrelenting as his grip. 

And it felt good, to surrender that sort of control. It wasn’t really about the blowjob. No, it was about the illusion of control; the hand in his hair, the steady in-and-out of Noel’s cock in his mouth, open and inviting, drool starting to drop from his bottom lip, gathering in the corners of his mouth and making its way into Noel’s no doubt expensive trousers. Harry shifted a little on his knees, the hard flooring beneath him uncomfortable, but only really there fuzzy, on the edge of his awareness. He pressed the heel of one hand against himself, staving away his impending orgasm. 

“You like this, don’t you? Your band, sitting just one room away, with you down on your fuckin’ knees, just desperate for anyone that wants you?” Noel spoke, voice low and measured. And fuck, if that didn’t go straight to Harry’s cock. He let out an answering groan, muffled and messy, drool dripping further from his mouth. Noel gave him an almost-smile, something caught between fondness (or, really, appreciation of some kind that Harry was this far gone for him, for this - he did say he had an oral fixation, after all) and mockery, at just how easy he really was. Harry loved that, too

Noel’s grip eased just enough for Harry to start bobbing his head as he wanted, in time with his own heartbeat, skipping any sort of teasing that had been on his mind when he started and heading straight for the grand finale. It was easy, now, to get him all the way into his throat, years of practice and a weak gag reflex to start giving him an advantage, to reach one hand up and cup his balls, the other resting gently on Noel’s hip. No illusion of control, there; it was more for his own balance. 

“Fuck,” Noel grunted after a few more minutes, voice still quiet, like he was more aware of their surroundings, and the unlocked door. It didn’t really matter now, anyway. 

Noel’s hand tangled back in Harry’s hair, still guiding, pushing Harry down again and leaving him there, nose pressed to the curls at the base of Noel’s cock. Harry kept his eyes on him, giving up on his watering eyes, a few tears managing to escape and track down his face. He dipped his head, the slight bit he could, understanding what Noel wanted from him and giving him his full permission. 

And just like that, Noel was cumming down his throat, hot and bitter, grip tightening in his hair again as Noel let out a soft groan, head tipping back with an audible little thunk against the wall. Harry swallowed what he could - easier said than done, with his cock still down his throat - and pulled back, looking up at him again. He knew what sort of picture he made on his knees, hair mussed up from Noel’s relentless tugging, sweat at his temples, cum and spit smeared sticky and wet in the dim lighting around his mouth and down his chin, clearly hard in his trousers, too tight and erring on the side of painful. 

Harry just gave him a hazy grin, wiping at his mouth, and standing on unsteady legs. “That was fun,” he said, at the same time as Noel mimed wiping at the corner of his lips. 

“You’ve got a little something,” he said, as gruff as ever. 

Harry just wiped at his mouth again, carding a finger through his hair in an attempt to tame it, as Noel tucked himself - as messy as Harry liked, sure to dry tacky, uncomfortable, and impossible to forget - back into his pants.

There wasn’t time to add anything else, though, the moment interrupted by a knock at the door. Harry slid away from Noel, enough space to seem a little more couth. No space in the world could fix his hair, or his wrinkled pants, or sweaty sex-messy hair. Or the fact that his mouth was clearly swollen. 

And if Harry had an obvious hard on, and Noel’s gaze was heavy and focused on him, for the rest of the recording session, no one said anything. Why would they? They knew how he was. And, on the bright side, it made for good lyric material.

**Author's Note:**

> if, god forbid, you want to come find me/talk to me on tumblr after this, i'm [@neonangell](https://neonangell.tumblr.com/). yeah, it's technically my mcr blog, but it's now the dumping ground for everything else. never written smut before, and what a fuckin' way to start. let me know what you think!
> 
> and yeah, maybe I hinted Medicine was a little about Noel Gallagher. what about it?


End file.
